The Lended Heart
by jandl
Summary: "They were spies, and spies had secrets and secrets were a disease that ate away at everything in their lives until their lies were all they had left." Auggie's thoughts post "Glass Spider" and based on the promo and stills for "Suffragette City." Rated T for one swear word.


****A/N: So, I really didn't want to write this because hundreds of people will over the next week. But, I've never written Covert Affairs fic before and never been bitten by a writing idea that would allow me to do so, and I could not stop thinking about That Promo. So, unoriginal as it is, here you are.

Disclaimer: Covert Affairs belongs to Chris Ord and Matt Corman and the USA Network. The title of the fic is a reworking of some lyrics from "Awake, My Soul" by Mumford and Sons, which I found oddly appropriate to Auggie's state of mind and what I perceive it shall be like in the next episode.

**The Lended Heart**

Auggie Anderson really wished, not for the first time, that he could blame Jai Wilcox for everything that was happening at that moment. As petty as it was, Auggie would have given anything for Jai to have not been killed in action, if only so that he could legitimately say that the man had been at fault. As it was, there was no one at fault, and that was the fact that was hardest for him to swallow. Jai had been dead for months, and while delving into the reasons behind his death may have caused the events in question, Jai wasn't really to blame for it. Not really, anyway. Jai's death and everything following it was more a symptom of a much larger problem. They were spies, and spies had secrets and secrets were a disease that ate away at everything in their lives until their lies were all they had left.

Up until recently, that truth had never bothered him. Rather, he had embraced that factoid. It was, after all, easier to lie about his problems with his blindness than it was to have to go back to that place he'd be in after his accident. It was easier to be sarcastic than angry; it was easier to be withdrawn than involved; it was easier to not bring up heart breaking stories than to cry on his best friend's shoulder; it was easier to be oblivious than to look at the obvious and deal with what he saw.

It was until he got the call anyway.

They say that an event like someone's life hanging in the balance gives one a "wake up call." It was events like Annie getting shot in her own house that reminded him why he detested awaking up from a deep sleep. It was totally, fucking disorienting. Everything around him seemed to be nothing more than a cacophony of foreign sounds, muffled words and strange smells. It was that distinct feeling of knowing he should be able to follow people's conversations and their words but finding himself unable to do so because his mind was stuck in that small place where only disconnected phrases have any real meaning. The only words he was really able to follow were "slow heart beat," "hardly any pulse," "severe blood loss and internal bleeding" and "medically induced coma." Those were words he wished he were able to drown out.

The word that really woke him up though was "traitor." Up until that point, he had almost been able to convince himself that he had fallen asleep at his desk and was having a truly terrible nightmare. But not even in his worst dreams could he imagine his subconscious accusing Annie Walker of being a traitor. That _had_ to be something from outside of his own head, and the accusation made him feel almost irrationally angry.

"She's not a traitor," he said, hoping he was staring Arthur Campbell in the eye or somewhere near it. His grip on his cane was so strong that he wouldn't have been surprised to find his knuckles had turned white, and he was pressing it into the tile of the hospital hallway floor so sternly that he could feel it bowing slightly in his grip.

"Auggie, I know you she's your friend. But you can't deny the evidence Lena has put together on her," came Arthur's voice, sounding firm yet strangely calming. Auggie couldn't help but wonder how crazy he must look – hair in a fresh-out-of-bed mess and his clothes thrown on haphazardly in his haste – that even Arthur, whom had never had a problem with putting Auggie in his place quite loudly, was trying to be gentle.

"I know what the files said, but I _know_ Annie. Hell, I thought _you_ knew Annie! She would never do what Lena's accusing her of having done! She may have been a bit reckless before, but never has she been disloyal. Her record is practically clear as gold; can you really see her as being a double agent?"

"No," Arthur admitted, and Auggie heard him sigh softly as the older man leaned himself against the opposite wall. "But, Auggie, that's why we need to investigate. You have to admit, if she _is_ a double agent, then she's a damn good one."

"You're wasting time. The mole isn't her. She may have reacted emotionally to Simon, but she never would have traded secrets for him."

Arthur gave no vocal response, but Auggie heard a slight hitch in his breathing that hinted that he was done with arguing. In all truth, Auggie was done with it too. He had more important things to worry about than whether or not Arthur was wise enough to trust the most honest woman in the CIA.

"I take it you're going to wait here with her?" Arthur inquired.

Auggie merely nodded and leaned against the wall, keeping his eyes in the general direction of the ICU.

"I'll make sure Joan brings you something to eat as soon as she comes up. I asked her to call Agent Walker's sister and fill her in about the shooting."

Auggie felt a brief pang of guilt that he had completely forgotten about calling Danielle. If Annie got any worse and no one had called Danielle, Annie would be swearing at him from whatever subconscious place she was in, he was sure.

Auggie allowed himself to slide to the floor as he heard Arthur Campbell's footsteps drift further and further away toward the elevator on the other end of the hallway. Now that he was left with the silence and nothing but endless time in which to wait, he found himself trying to figure out how he had gotten to this point. When had Annie fallen in love and not told him about it? When did she start doing her own missions and not asking him for advice, cloaked as it may have been in hypotheticals and "for instances?" When had his best friend stopped trusting him?

God, he really wanted to blame Jai…. . But he couldn't. He didn't have it in his heart to blame a deceased man who had merely been trying to do his job. That didn't mean that no one was at fault. He blamed whoever had shot Annie and Simon; he blamed himself for not catching on sooner to what Jai was doing, and for not being able to point out exactly what Annie had gotten herself into; a part of him even blamed Annie for putting herself in the situations she had a habit of getting into (but he ignored that part of himself because the thought of blaming Annie in any way made him physically ill); he blamed Lena for giving Annie advice in all the wrong directions. Why had no one asked _him_ whether transferring Annie to Lena's department was a good idea? He was Annie's best friend and if anyone knew spy trades she would be good at, it was him. If Lena had asked, he could have told her that swallow missions were not going to be good for Annie – she gets emotionally involved, and that's how she does her best work – but in a mission like that she was going to end up getting in way over her head. Annie couldn't _pretend_ to be in love. She either was in love or she wasn't.

Auggie heaved a sigh as he remembered his last conversation with Annie. He had been sitting in his office and he had felt so…well, hurt. She had fallen in love with a man, even while believing he was a bad guy, and then she hadn't told him a single thing about it. And he couldn't help but wonder still if she ever would have told him if he hadn't found out the truth for himself. And as he had sat there, listening to her about to offer him explanations as to why she had lied, he had only wanted to know one thing. Was she in love with him? At first, he thought he was wondering for the Agency's sake, but as she sat in front of him, the silence stretching between them like the Grand Canyon, he realised he really had been asking for himself. He wasn't sure why he wanted to know – wasn't even sure that he _did_ want to know – but part of him wondered if it was truly possible that his best friend had turned into that much of a stranger to him over the previous months.

Her answer had been less than informative. "I don't know," she had said, her hands coming up to rest over his on his lap, gripping his fingers with hers almost painfully. She had laid her head on their encased hands then, and the only comfort he could give her was to stroke the outside of her hands with his thumbs. "I mean, he may be an enemy spy, but he's a good man, Auggie. One of the best I've ever met, and I don't know if it is love, but I do know that the thought of seeing him leave makes it hard to breathe."

Auggie had felt something in his gut squirm at her confession – jealousy, a part of his brain had said. Though what he was jealous of he wasn't sure. He squeezed her hands a bit tighter in response. "Well then, Miss Walker. I'd say you have a decision to make."

"A decision?"

"You either figure out how you feel, and then you deal. Or you don't."

"And if it is love?" she asked, her voice getting that breathy squeak that it always did when she was overly emotional.

"Then you decide what to do about that. You'll do the right thing, Annie," he reassured her, placing a quick kiss to the top of her blonde hair and slowly removing his fingers from her. "You always do."

Annie had stood up and given that soft chuckle that he had become so accustomed to over the years, ruffled his hair and then hip checked him as she sauntered out of the room, joking that he owed her a large thing of Patron after the day she'd had.

God, he wished now that he'd put aside his brief bout of jealousy and hurt over her withholding information and gone for those drinks.

Auggie pulled himself off of the floor. Someone was framing Annie, and if she pulled through (and she would because she had to) then whoever it was would try to kill her again. Simon was dead, but Annie would be the one link in the puzzle that could give the real culprit away. Auggie had failed her once, but he wouldn't do it again. He wasn't quite sure where to start, but given that the link was Simon Fischer, starting with the latest case seemed as good a place as any. Questioning Lena was his first goal, and hey…if he got to make not-so-veiled comments about how she obviously didn't understand how Agent Annie Walker worked, then that was just icing on the cake.

Annie was fighting for her life, but Auggie was going to make sure that she still had one worth living when she woke up. She deserved that much from him at least. What else were best friends for?

* * *

I am sorry it sucks so badly. This is what happens when you're jotting stuff down between working with patrons at a library. And when you're a sucky writer. Despite that, I hope you enjoyed it.


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